truth, I do not know why I like to ask
you such presumptuous questions."

He had sat down in front of her. So now, at last, the scene was set as
he wished and he must begin the attack. His knee touched hers.

"You know," he said, "that you cannot presume here. You have claims
on--"

"No, I haven't and I want none."

"Why?"

"Because.... Listen," and her voice became grave and firm. "The more I
reflect, the more inclined I am to ask you, for heaven's sake, not to
destroy our dream. And then.... Do you want me to be frank, so frank
that I shall doubtless seem a monster of selfishness? Well, personally,
I do not wish to spoil the--the--what shall I say?--the extreme
happiness our relation gives me. I know I explain badly and confusedly,
but this is the way it is: I possess you when and how I please, just as,
for a long time, I have possessed Byron, Baudelaire, Gerard de Nerval,
those I love--"

"You mean ...?"

"That I have only to desire them, to desire you, before I go to
sleep...."

"And?"

"And you would be inferior to my chimera, to the Durtal I adore, whose
caresses make my nights delirious!"

He looked at her in stupefaction. She had that dolent, troubled look in
her eyes. She even seemed not to see him, but to be looking into space.
He hesitated.... In a sudden flash of thought he saw the scenes of
incubacy of which Gevingey had spoken. "We shall untangle all this
later," he thought within himself, "meanwhile--" He took her gently by
the arms, drew her to him and abruptly kissed her mouth.

She rebounded as if she had had an electric shock. She struggled to
rise. He strained her to him and embraced her furiously, then with a
strange gurgling cry she threw her head back and caught his leg between
both of hers.

He emitted a howl of rage, for he felt her haunches move. He understood
now--or thought he understood! She wanted a miserly pleasure, a sort of
solitary vice....

He pushed her away. She remained there, quite pale, choking, her eyes
closed, her hands outstretched like those of a frightened child. Then
Durtal's wrath vanished. With a little cry he came up to her and caught
her again, but she struggled, crying, "No! I beseech you, let me go."

He held her crushed against his body and attempted to make her yield.

"I implore you, let me go."

Her accent was so despairing that he relinquished her. Then he debated
with himself whether to throw her brutally on the floor and violate her.
But h